


some kind of love

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: FIFA World Cup 2018, Gen, Post-Match
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: What didn't happen for Peru.





	some kind of love

**Author's Note:**

> this escaped my sunburnt body before i could stop myself. mood music [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGOmLrBBMRk)

It doesn’t happen like this:

Paolo comes on for Jefferson just over an hour into the match. It’s expected, a relief even. As much as Jeffry has proven himself on the pitch, the country’s memory is long and the fans’ memory is even longer. They wanted their warrior on the pitch and they would take the appropriate sacrifice. 

Jefferson doesn’t waste time, grinning wide as he passes Paolo halfway to the sideline. There isn’t time enough to say everything between the noise of the stadium and the pressure of being down a goal. Paolo nods anyway, jogging to the box. After the match, they could laugh until they cry over finally being at the World Cup. After the match, they could compare notes, share fears and hopes, but there were still thirty odd minutes to keep fighting, to make their comeback triumphant.

Alberto heads a cross just to the left of the goal and Jeffry groans into his hands. 

It’s hard to stay in his seat, to not shout at the Denmark players who keep fouling Paolo and their missed opportunities, but it’s not hard to see the energy that Paolo infuses the team with after coming on. Everyone knows it isn’t time to lament. It was time to act 

And then, Cuevita threads the ball to Paolo in between the Danes crowding the box, and Paolo doesn’t look, blindly using his heel to flick it back. Carrillo manages to poke it past Kjaer. It flies to the left of Schmeichel who scrambles, but it’s too late.

Everyone rises up from the bench to hug, yelling over each other in joy. Paolo jumps on Andy before they take off running in celebration with Cueva and Luis. It tastes like victory, equalizing on the team that had been rebuffing every chance. It tastes like hope, that their days of being small and overlooked had come to an end and they had all been a part of getting there. 

Fifteen minutes and two yellow cards later, they finish the game at a tie. Denmark furious and Peru elated at the result. 

They can still hear the crowd singing for them from the locker room. _Como no te voy a querer_.

It’s giddiness that drives them together, jumping with arms around each other and celebrating like they had won a final, until Gareca calls for their attention, to remind them France would not be easy and they should reset expectations after tonight. Paolo has his arm over Cuevita’s shoulder giving him a pep talk, because as far as he’s concerned, Christian and Andy had been the ones who put in the work to make the goal happen. He had just gotten lucky to be there at the right moment.

Jefferson knows the fans have dispersed and the echoes of familiar song is just ringing in his ears. _Como no te voy a querer_. 

He looks away from Paolo, checking in with the guys closest to him, nudging and jostling until they batted his affection away. The nerves of their first match are settling along their jaws full of laughter. It’s not until he ends up across the dressing room that Paolo seeks him out, done with his own rounds.

“We did it.” He says, looking like he could go back out and tear up the distance between now and thursday with just his feet and the grass beneath them. 

Jefferson knows impossibilities bend to Paolo’s will if he wants them enough, knows that his faith in the team would move mountains, but he would like to get some sleep before battling a new day and another european team. 

“Didn’t doubt you for a second.” He standing by his side, but he doesn’t need to see Paolo to know he’s begun to relax, to unwind and store away the parts that made him a better captain than Jeffry could ever hope of becoming.

“Can you believe it?” There’s enough awe in his voice that Jeffry thinks the question goes beyond the game and into the clouds of their shared dreams. 

“We’re here together, so it must be real.” Jeffry laughs softly. 

They had done it. They had gotten here, and the rest was just a bonus.

**Author's Note:**

> one of the more popular chants for the Peruvian supporters and the one I kept hearing in the crowd was Como No Te Voy A Querer which goes: como no te voy a querer/ como no te voy a querer/ si eres mi peru querido/ el pais bendito que me vio nacer. trans: how can I not love you/ how can I not love you/ you are my beloved peru/ the blessed country of my birth and it makes me hella emotional in vague and complicated ways.


End file.
